Johnson Boller shook his head. The man had always been queer; now, overnight, he, too, had gone crazy! Anthony, who was largely nerves this morning, asked:
"What the devil are you talking about, anyway? I'm not trying to be unpleasant, Hitchin, but I'm not myself this morning and this rambling discourse about crime is rather trying."
"You are not yourself this morning?" Hitchin repeated slowly, with a very keen smile at Anthony.
"No."
"Why are you not yourself this morning, Fry?"
"What? Because I lost some sleep last night, I suppose."
"Ah!" Hitchin cried softly. "And why did you lose some sleep last night?"
Anthony's patience snapped.
"See here, Hitchin!" he cried. "I like to be polite and hospitable as possible, but why on earth I should sit here and answer your ridiculous questions I cannot see."
Hobart Hitchin laughed, a low, rippling, sinister laugh that chilled the hearer without giving a clue to the reason for the chill.